Heartbeat of the Forest
by Blackfire 18
Summary: Moro broods on the rock slab above her home, tormented by the agony of the dying forest and the ache in her chest that is slowly killing her. This...this is all that wretched boy's fault.


**Heartbeat of the Forest**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Mononoke or any of the characters there within.**

Moro lay calmly on the great stone slab that sheltered her home, while chaos erupted around her. The trees screamed in their ethereal voices, ghostly and haunting at once as they fell groaning to the forest floor. Her heart went out to the helpless gentle giants that could do nothing to defend themselves from the onslaught of man and his folly. The animals in turn cried out in bitter hurt and confusion that their forest home could do nothing against the slow torture of methodical hack saws. All creatures knew that man, with his superior intellect, was something to be feared. Man had grown so independent of nature's embrace, that he molded Her to suit his needs. It was unnatural. How could man be so intelligent, and yet so foolish? They had intellect and raw power in their numbers, but their destructive ways would not only destroy the forest. Man would eventually be his own undoing. She could at least be satiated with this fact.

The screams grew louder.

The goddess of the wolf tribe betrayed no hint of the ache the dying forest or its terrified children caused her, nor of the agony that pulsed from the human bullet in her chest, but this coolness with which she greeted the night was precisely the opposite of the agony she felt. Any movement caused her great pain, so to howl her solemn anguish for the forest as her family had when she was a cub, might very well have killed her. The wound had long since healed over, but the pain did not cease, and coupled with the screams of the forest, the wolf god felt her heart might burst. She might have preferred it to this to the tormenting pain.

Moro could feel her strength dwindling as the realization that she was at the mercy of death gripped with a cripplingly chill hand at her heart. That damned gunwoman. She would kill that evil woman if it was the last thing she did on this world, surely the forest god would forgive her of this. That gunwoman had condemned her to death, she would only return the favor.

She lay perfectly still, even her sensitive ears did not swivel to carefully monitor the surroundings as she had in her prime, there was nothing immediately threatening to hear, nor comforting for that matter. But then she had been more ferocious when she had much to worry for. Her sons were grown now and capable of looking after themselves, and each other. And even her human child, her precious San, had grown. When her poor, darling child had begged of her to seek aid from the forest god, Moro had quietly disagreed. The wolf god had given her life to protecting an increasingly dangerous forest line that grew more treacherous every generation as man cut his way into it. Many of the other guardians had gone. Perished. She was very alone in her duties.

A scream exploded very close to her and Moro exhaled a deep rumble of despair.

These wise trees that had existed even before the tribes, before Moro or Okkoto, or any of the others; they were as ancient a life as the forest god himself. She had given an oath long ago to protect both forest god and trees alike, but now she feared the forest stood no chance as the time of man drew near. All of the guardian gods had been destroyed, and now, here she lay with the bullet wound in her chest, silently waiting to join her kin.

Suddenly, all of the pain and death around her fermented to something much more deadly; hatred. Animals knew to fear man. Gods knew to hate him.

Moro's ears pricked forward sharply as a heady scent of burnt blood overwhelmed the soothing earth and moisture notes of the night air. The goddess did not need to open her eyes to know who had intruded so rudely on her solitude.

At her high place on the rock slab, she had a distinct advantage of surprise and, had she been younger, uninjured, and filled with her insurmountable hatred for his kind, she would not have doubted her actions to destroy that which embodied the means behind her great fight; but Moro had only a single attribute on her side that night, and it was not reason enough to attack. This boy, this mere child, was not directly responsible for her injury, nor the destruction of the forest. And in Moro's years of experience, she had learned to stop attacking at the first prickle of irritation and rather look, listen, and feel what should be done. Justice would be had. Though justice was sometimes very unjust.

She scented him and knew what had driven him to interrupt her thoughts. The demon mark on his arm was growing unbearable, so much so that he could not sleep. The hatred in Moro sobered, if only slightly. This boy too, bore a mark that would destroy him. While she bore the mark of man that slowly ate away her life, he bore one born of nature. The irony settled strangely in Moro's stomach. Well, death made equals of them all.

She cracked open one eye to study him. He was completely unaware of her hovering just above him as he looked out over the forest, as she had been only moment's ago. This human was a strange one indeed.

Any other night, Moro might have endured this boy's presence quietly to study him, but she and the forest were in pain, his putrid smell—tainted with the demon mark—inflamed her nostrils, and her patience wore thin.

A growl resonated from her throat through the entire rock slab, announcing her presence with a low, deep threat as she spoke and the boy looked over his shoulder at her. His mild indifference irked her. Did these young things not know the meaning of respect?

"You know you could always jump boy."

The goddess' brilliant eyes were now open, her ears facing sharply forward as the human turned fully to face her.

"End it all. As soon as your strength returns the mark will spread and destroy you."

The boy ignored her suggestion of a coward's way to null the pain, and while Moro kept her annoyance in check at firstly having been intruded upon and secondly not met with a respectable answer to practical solutions for his kind, she silently admitted that this boy too chose to live with the pain for a cause he thought just. Each of them bore marks that would destroy them, yet they chose to go to give the fight worth living for. At least when he spoke, he had the sense to keep his eyes downcast.

"It feels like I must have been asleep for weeks. I had a dream that San was by my side, nursing me."

Moro's ears tilted even more forward. How could she have missed this? The tremor in his voice and slight shiver of his body at the mention of San betrayed him; the tangy smell of sweat as it broke across his brow. She had dismissed it as fever from the mark, but this human…this human _boy_…cared deeply for her daughter. She could truly only speculate, but a mother's intuition told her otherwise. She ignored her suspicions for the moment and continued with her thinly veiled impatience.

"I was hoping you'd cry out in your sleep. Then I would have bitten your head off to silence you."

Again the boy thought better than to directly address the threat.

"It's a beautiful forest."

Pride lanced through Moro despite herself. This was the same forest that she had protected countless moons that he beheld and praised. She had lived to protect it and would die in its whispering leaves.

"Are Okkoto and the boars on the move yet?"

Moro decided that the boy was beyond intimidation and that a real conversation could take place here, no matter the company. The boy was certainly no fool, if not forthright.

"Yes. The boars are marching. The trees cry out as they die. But you cannot hear them." She looked out over the trees, her ears pricked at their visible stillness, but undoubtedly hearing all the turmoil that man was electively deaf to. "I lie here. I listen to the pains of the forest and feel the ache of the bullet in my chest. And I dream of the day when I will finally crunch that gunwoman's head in my jaws."

The boy looked up at her with his brown eyes. Humans had perhaps the most penetrating eyes of the animal kingdom.

"Moro, why can't the humans and the forest live together? Why can't we stop this fighting now?"

"The humans are gathering for the final battle. The flames of their guns will burn us all."

"And what happens to San? What's your plan, to let her die with you?"

Moro looked at the boy sharply and studied him through cold eyes. Again the topic of discussion had circled back to her daughter and his cryptic interpretation of actions she had not even made yet.

"Typical. Selfish. You think like a human. San is my daughter, she is of the wolf tribe. When the forest dies, so does she."

"You must set her free! She's not a wolf, she's human!"

Had Moro been uninjured she would have launched from her perch and ripped him to shreds for the cruel declaration. Her entire body tensed in her fury, hackles raised, and lips drawn far back to reveal rows of frightening, flashing fangs and teeth. Any other creature before the enraged goddess would have fainted dead away in fear before such a sight, or would sooner jump to their death than await her attack. Her resounding growl shook the rock beneath them both, as though the very rock feared her wrath.

"_Silence boy!_" She barked. "How _dare_ you speak to a god like that?" The boy had no right to make such accusations against her judgment, and though it was not any of his concern, or any reason to defend her actions from that day, she found herself retelling San's sad story. "I caught her human parents defiling my forest. They threw their baby at my feet as they ran away. Instead of eating her, I raised her as my own. Now my poor, ugly, beautiful daughter is neither human nor wolf." The wolf god's pupils dilated in the darkness as her jaws snapped viciously together. "How could you help her?"

"I don't know. But at least we might find a way to live."

A bubbling laughter rose from deep within her chest, her jaws opened wide and Moro laughed out loud at his hopeless sentiment. He would solely face the forest's adversary? His own blood kin? He would sooner stand beside her daughter than join the fight? Her suspicions had been correct and confirmed. His notion was preposterous.

"How, will you join forces with San and fight the humans?"

"No. All that would do is cause more hatred."

The simmering hatred in Moro had all but puttered out. Humans were the cause of the pain in the forest, and they had no answers to remedy it. They would destroy themselves, she had no doubt. This child was simply lost among the fray. The mother in Moro was rising to meet the warrior. They both suffered, and though this boy had no answers, he did not seek destruction either. Despite his mark, this boy was…good. The thought made her heart race and yet she was repulsed.

Now she only wanted this child from her sight, this boy who knew so much and yet so little.

"There is nothing you can do boy. Soon the demon mark will spread and kill you. Now leave this place at sunrise. Return, and I shall kill you."

Knowing he had been dismissed, the boy opened his mouth to say something else, but slowly shut it again. There was nothing left to say. Quietly, he bowed to the goddess, his first truly respectful act towards her that night that earned him an unseen quirk of the wolf god's ears, and returned to the cave beneath her. Moro again closed her eyes. The light breeze slowly dissipated his scent from her nose, but their conversation stayed with her. This battle was not his to fight, but he was on the forest's side. He cared for San. He wanted to share his life with her. Man was an enigma. And Moro suddenly felt horribly torn. His burning words echoed back to her.

_She's not a wolf. She's human!_

Moro had come to love San for her imperfections, adore her for being too slow to keep pace with her sons, cherish her mixed scent of human and wolf; but ultimately…San was still human. Moro may have raised her a wolf, but the girl was born a human and no amount of motherly blindness would change that. Moro could not coddle her human child for much longer, as much as she could hide her from the destruction of the forest.

Moro was dying.

San would very soon be left to make her own decisions. Her sons had grown up wolves and knew how to live, but San had a choice to make: To stay with her siblings, or create a new life among the humans.

The goddess silently swore to herself that she would not interfere with San's decision, but deep in her soul, she knew she had already lost her daughter.

Moro opened her eyes, the pain of the forest had subsided to a moan like that of sad wind through the trees, and she pushed herself painfully up onto her haunches. Her jaws parted to let her pant as the excruciating pain pounded in her chest. She waited until the pain subsided and then she looked up to the full moon overhead, gaining small solace for having made it this far. She drew a great breath.

Moro knew this would be the last time she would howl for all she had lost and all she had yet to lose.

**Author's Note: I absolutely loved this scene all to pieces. The dangerous, injured goddess on the rock and the marked boy below and their conversation was just awe inspiring. This has got to be one of my favorite movies. That Miyazaki is a genius. So I belted one out for my favorite scene.**

**I wrote this just a little after finals--so if it sounds brain-dead I have a perfect explanation as to why. I only hope I didn't jump around in my ideas too much. There was a lot of "ground" to cover in this story. I think I touched on everything I wanted to, but perhaps not in the depth I wanted to. Ah well, I leave that to my reader's to decide.**

**Anywho, just a quick little ditty that I hope all who read enjoyed! Please leave a review!!**

**Blackfire 18**


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